Hell is Empty
by bowsandthrills
Summary: Turmoil heightens as Zuko's band is slowly falling apart. There is one way to get it back together, though, but can he handle it? Drama ensues. Find out more. Rated T for swearing and dark themes


**AN: Hey, guys. This is my first Zutara fanfic, but it has been my OTP since foreva. x3 My mom and dad named me Toph after this show lol. They met on a forum about the show, and during the premiere of Day of Black Sun, I was conceived. Anyway, this is just the prologue. I swear, the chapters will get longer. I just want to see what you guys think! Pls leave reviews :) Constructive criticism is welcome.**

Today was a living hell. I had just gotten out of school and into my red Mercedes when dad called and broke the news. I almost slammed the brakes when I heard. The only thing that stopped me from dying too was the blaring noise of the horns in the parking lot around me. I punched the button on my steering wheel to drop the call. Burnt rubber shrieked on the asphalt as I sped off to my friend Aang's house. I couldn't believe despite the news I still had to get on with my life. It felt like I was playing a part in this facade called normality.

I think I left skid marks on the road leading to Aang's driveway. We all had band practice in his basement. He lived alone for all I knew, so there were never any adults there to bother us when we played. I didn't enter through the garage door, though; I opted for the front door so I could remain unnoticed if only for a while. I took some time in Aang's kitchen to wash my face with cold water. I gazed out the window at the brightly lit scene of birds chirping, perched on a stone basin. How could the Earth keep turning at a time like this?

I made myself some instant ramen. Noodle by noodle, I sat alone. The noises of my band setting up downstairs constantly interrupted my thoughts. They were wrong when they said an unstoppable force and an immovable object couldn't exist in tandem. My thoughts were immovable, always honing back on that one damn thing, but their racket was unstoppable. They better not have been messing with my guitar.

My guitar was a custom Gibson Les Paul. It was custom in the sense that I made it myself with my own two hands, not just call up a company and ask them to make it all special like some posers I know would do. If everyone did shit like that, nothing in this world would be original. I had been in Nashville once on vacation, and my mother had taken me to a luthier's. While I was in his shop, he taught me how to carve in the beautiful curves belonging to the instrument. He showed me all the ropes in making one myself. So, I did. She was matte red with a custom, golden Z in the lower part of her body. Her name was Hellfire. She had a way of voicing my emotions for me when it was difficult. To be honest, Hellfire saved me from some dark places.

The empty box of cheap noodles fell into the trash as I got up and headed downstairs. Aang's basement was a complete wreck. Posters of naked, big-titted women adorned every wall and beer bottles were strewn about the floor. Those would've been Sokka's. Our drummer was unfortunately an incurable alcoholic. Trying to get him to stop was useless. He just kept going back. Aang wasn't a help. I think he promoted Sokka's addiction, especially with his mini fridge in the corner filled to the brim with Bud Light. All the furniture in there was either turned over or ripped to goddamn shreds. I had no idea what Aang did here in his free time; I'm sure I was lucky for never knowing.

Our whole setup was pretty DIY. Sokka's bass drum had a painted on decal which, in bright red letters, read "Zuko and the Devils." Aang's bass was super cheap and covered with gaudy stickers he got from who knows where. The parts of his bass that weren't completely hidden revealed paint that had been chipped away. The microphone sat on a stand that was fixed to be pretty short. The cord leading to the amp was haphazardly covered in bright orange duct tape to keep it together. Oh god, the microphone.

"Where's Azula, man?" Aang said as he was sitting on his amp, fiddling with the distortion.

I could barely speak. My voice trembled, "She's dead."


End file.
